


on wings of wax, still intact.

by secretly_a_savior



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Based on History, Extended Metaphor, In which Alexander Hamilton is a petty hoe, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/pseuds/secretly_a_savior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only one thing stopping the young Icarus from pursuing his affections- from putting everything on the line for the whip smart Frenchman. </p><p>George Washington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on wings of wax, still intact.

**Author's Note:**

> This only took me a few hours to crank out- it's not very cohesive. This is based on a real letter from the Marquis to George Washington on 12 June 1779. I took the liberty of shifting it to after the war because of my beautiful friend Kendall's ideas in our advanced topics in math class today. This is a gift for her.

Alexander Hamilton sat at George Washington's desk with his lips between his teeth, staring at the letter that sat before him his lead heart feeling hollow. He'd made many friends in America, and with the war winding up, many of them were dispersing to begin lives outside of the war and to seek success elsewhere. One of those friends was Major General Gilbert De Motier, Marquis du Lafayette. He'd gone back to France in an attempt to bring democracy to his people, and Alexander missed him dearly. 

The Marquis, although Alexander wouldn't admit it, lit a fire in his chest, as if the man himself were white phosphorus and Alexander was built of matches. He was an attractive man of many talents. His skill with pen, his skill with sword, it was all undeniable and the man himself was flamboyantly passionate. Alexander just wished that he could be the object of that passion. It was the passion that won them the war- how could he not be envious of it? 

Hamilton treated the man well, with respect and reverence. He was good to him, even offering some of his own supplies to the man when he very nearly fell ill, just an aide-de-camp at Valley Forge. He cared deeply for him, and for a long time thought that care and affection might have been reciprocated. Lafayette saw potential where no one else did and let him lead the men into battle at Yorktown with him. Battling along side the object of his shallow affections filled his heart with resolve where it should've been young Phillip and Eliza filling his heart with such feelings. 

It wasn't though. 

Alexander always considered himself a Daedalus of sorts. Painstakingly crafting a future for America and trying to lead it away from the obvious obstacles in it's way. Anyone that knew him though ostensibly saw him as an Icarus. Which meant, at present, his own personal sun was Gilbert. Any collision would surely melt the wax wings that kept Alexander afloat- but for now they stayed intact and pristine. The Frenchman could cut down Alexander with his words- or build him up. He could let Alexander fall into something much more intensely personal than unrequited lust- and then let things end. Either would surely destroy Alexander.

There was only one thing stopping the young Icarus from pursuing his affections- from putting everything on the line for the whip smart Frenchman. 

George Washington.

Alexander had the special privilege of knowing General Washington incredibly intimately. He read all of his correspondence and replied to most of it. He served closely with Washington, read dozens of letters a day. None of them were special or personal, except for the ones from Lafayette, which came even when they lived close together. Those were always set aside for the General to answer himself. Sometimes Alexander didn't even read them. George, though, hadn't sent a letter to the Marquis since he left, and yet yellow parchment scrawled with deeply affectionate words sat before Alexander among other boring documents, ledgers, and receipts.

He read it dryly, nursing his fifth brandy of the night, the words falling from his lips. 

"So much, so tenderly Belov’d, as I do love and Respect you—happy in our union, in the pleasure of living with you, in that so charming satisfaction of partaking any sentiment of your heart, any event of your life, I had taken such an habit of being inseparable from you, that I can’t now get the use of absence and I am more and more afflicted of that distance which keeps me so far from you."

Ugh. 

The words incensed Alexander- he sent letter upon letter to his compatriot and hadn't yet received anything in return. But completely unprompted, this beautifully written, affectionate letter had shown up for the General. Alexander firmly planted the idea in his head that he'd be better for the other than Washington would be. More affectionate, a more  _feeling_ person all around. He wasn't old enough to be the Marquis  _father._ The other man just couldn't see it- he was blinded by Washington's power and stature.

Right?  

Whatever the case was, Hamilton's misplaced affections not only put weight on his shoulders that he did not need, but it caused unintentional tensions between he and the General, which didn't bode well for their friendship or for his own political career. He didn't mean for this to happen- he just felt so strongly about General Major Lafayette. He felt a pull almost stronger than the one to his own wife- it was like a childlike crush. All encompassing.

He read the final line of the letter to himself and finished his drink.

"For god’s Sake write me frequent and long letters and speak most chiefly about yourself and your private circumstances. Farewell, my dear General, and let our mutual affection last for ever and ever."

It was in the short moments that he halfheartedly read the words to himself that Alexander formulated a plan, his brandy-drunk mind conceiving it much too quickly for it's own good.

 If his dearest General General Washington didn't write back, then Gilbert would understandably be upset, right? He'd need someone to turn to- he'd need a shoulder to lean on. 

So if somehow, some way Washington didn't get the letter, then he couldn't respond. It would hurt Lafayette- but then, Alexander felt no remorse. He'd been hurt too. Maybe the Frenchman would be hurt enough to find solace in Alexander. He hid the letter in his own small drawer of personal belongings that he kept in the General's office and smirked. Really, this was just karma- ignoring someone called for being ignored in response, right?

And with that, Alexander pulled a quill and began penning a benign letter to Eliza, waiting for George to return so he could end his work for the night and recede into his own quarters.


End file.
